Snapshots on a Season
by Thnx4theGum
Summary: This will be a collection of 16 oneshots that tie in with the characters developed in Wedding Vows. Hope you enjoy!
1. Winter: Dawn

**Ok, so here's how this works:**

**There will be 16 of these oneshots total, 4 for each of the 4 seasons of the year. The 'seasons' will each have four sub-sections covering the four phases of the Booths' relationship:**

**Dawn: Pre-dating-engagement**

**Sunrise: Early marriage years (foster daughter period)**

**Noon: Middle married years (twins, Jake, Hope)**

**Sunset: Later years**

**To familiarize yourself with the new characters, read "Wedding Vows: A series of 12 Oneshots". Hope you enjoy. I love getting feedback.**

**Gum **

**Disclaimer: Once again, my bones belong to me, Bones does not.**

**Snapshots on a Season**

**Winter:**

**Dawn:**

"Seriously, Bones?" Booth looked over at his partner as they were driving back from a crime scene, "You've never built a snowman?"

"No," Brennan crinkled her nose at the thought, "I never understood the concept, and always felt it rather sexist. Snow_men_ are no more or less anatomically shaped than snow_women_, so why use the male gender label all of the time?"

Booth sighed, only Bones would draw that conclusion, "Well, I know when I was three _I_ built an anatomically correct snow_man_!" he paused for dramatic effect, "Butt was sore for a week after my dad came home from work.

She tried not to laugh, but ultimately allowed him a small smirk, "Why does that not surprise me Booth?"

When they arrived at the Jeffersonian Brennan exited the car, expecting Booth to follow her to her office. They had a lot of paperwork to get started on. What she did not expect was for him to do was grasp her shoulders and point to the freshly fallen snow that covered the grounds.

"Time to make your first snow-" he halted, then grinned, "PERSON Bones! You choose the gender, though I would advice not being too specific."

She shook her head, "I don't think so, Booth. One, we are not dressed in correct snow apparel. Two, the Jeffersonian is not an appropriate place to build snowpeople. And three, we have much too much paperwork to engage in frivolous activities."

"One," he mimicked her, ticking the points off on his fingers, "It's just water and will dry off eventually no matter what we've got on. Two, the Jeffersonian won't care and even if they do they are not going to fire their best forensic anthropologist over it. And three, frivolous activity is an anthropological necessity when facing tremendous amounts of paperwork."

He pasted on his biggest charm smile, "Com'on, Bones! Please!"

"Frivolous activity is not an anthropologic necessity," she pointed out.

Booth was ignoring her, though, and had begun forming a small snowball. He placed it in her gloved hand and made one for himself.

"You start with a ball," he held out his, "Then you get down like this, and start rolling it around, like this, until it eventually gets large enough for the size snow_person_ that you desire."

"Would this be where the term 'snowball effect' originated from?" she sighed, knowing at this point it was useless to argue with him.

"And people doubt you are a genius!"

"Booth," she crouched down awkwardly and began enlarging her snowball, "No one doubts I'm a genius."

"Some people have," he continued working on his snowball, surprised she had acquiesced so quickly, "Never me, though! I never doubted you for a minute. Well, not once I saw what you were capable of."

They continued side by side, rolling until Booth announced that they were ready for the next step.

"But, Booth," she pointed out, "Yours is bigger than mine."

"Ah, but for this project, Bones, mine needs to be bigger," he grinned slyly, wondering if she caught the double meaning; probably not. "Mine will be the base, and yours will be the middle."

"Torso," she interpreted, "Yes, I can see now that mine must be smaller so that it can fit on top of yours."

It took every bit of self-restraint that her partner had not to laugh. They placed hers on top of his and stood back to admire their handiwork.

"Would you like to make the head, Bones?" he offered.

"Alright."

She made quick work of it and placed it on the top.

"Is that everything?" she inquired next.

He shook his head, "Nope. Next we need to give him a face. Look around and see if you can find any stones we can use for eyes, and we'll need sticks for arms too."

They separated and began the search. Five minutes later they came back.

"These should work well for appendages," she proffered the two sticks she had found buried in the snow.

"Good," he nodded, showing her where to place them, "And these will do for the face."

He placed two round stones on the top portion for eyes and a dirty acorn for a nose. He drew a smile on it with his finger.

"Voila!" he stepped back and put his arm around Bones, "Our creation is complete!"

"Not quite," she countered, as she took her scarf off in a flourish and wrapped it around the snowperson's neck.

"Now," she turned to Booth, hands on hips, "Have we sufficiently satisfied your need for engaging in frivolous activity so that we can return to work?"

"Yes," he grinned.

"Good, because I am growing colder by the second."

"Well," he said, taking her by the shoulders and steering her toward the Jeffersonian and her warm office, "I can help you warm up, Bones. Now, let's go tackle the paperwork, then I'll call for delivery when we get in."


	2. Winter: Sunrise

**Winter:**

**Sunrise:**

On a cold winter day in a rural town in Maryland, sixteen year-old Scout Davis and her social worker Ken Hartman pulled into a long driveway.

"You'll like it here," the social worker assured her, "The Booths are good people."

That was all well and good, she supposed, except that she'd been told the same thing about the last three families she had been placed with over the past five years. None of them had worked out well. As they came up the driveway the house came into view. It was huge.

"Is this some kind of group home?" she asked warily.

"No," the car came to a halt, "It's a family home, though I believe there are several other girls here right now."

Scout groaned inwardly, wishing she did not have to get out right away. Mrs. Kelly, her last foster mother, had been a widow. Sure she had become a foster parent for the free labor, but Scout preferred the solitude to a crowd.

She stepped cautiously out of the car and trailed the social worker up to the front door. He knocked, she held back. A woman opened the door.

"Hello Ken," she greeted the social worker.

"Dr. Booth, always a pleasure," he smiled, and then turned to make introductions.

"Scout, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth. Dr. Booth- Ms. Scout Davis."

Scout shook the hand that was proffered, noting that the doctor had a firm grip. Scout was always leery of people whose handshakes felt like you were shaking a limp fish, and she relaxed just a bit.

"Well, I think I'll go get Scout's things from the car and leave you two to get acquainted."

"Would you like me to get Booth?" the doctor asked, "He's just around back playing in the snow."

A loud squeal sounded, followed by a distinctly male voice, bearing testimony to her words.

"Sounds like he's busy," Ken smiled, "I won't need that much help anyway."

Of course he wouldn't, Scout thought, it wasn't like she had that much for him to bring in. She eyed her new foster mother critically as they entered the house. Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth was no frumpy housewife, that was for sure. She was probably about forty, Scout estimated, but even dressed in a simple tee-shirt and a pair of jeans she was stunning. Her auburn hair was styled and hung just above her shoulders. Her blue eyes were kind and inviting, but didn't press Scout for information.

"You may hang your coat here," Dr. Booth opened a coat closet, revealing several empty hangers.

Scout obliged, and slipped her worn tennis shoes off as well. She glanced back at the door, wondering what was taking Ken so long.

"I think he ran into my husband," the other woman seemed to read her thoughts. "By the way, no one here calls me Dr. Booth. I'm Temperance, or Dr. B as some of the girls call me. My husband is Seeley Booth, but you may call him Booth, " a wry smile danced on her lips, "Not even I call him Seeley."

Scout nodded, relaxing a little more. It was nice when you knew the name rules up front. Some families she had been in expected you to call them 'Mom' and 'Dad' right away- like you didn't have parents of your own. Others never let you call them anything but 'Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so'.

"Come on into the kitchen and we will get you something to eat and drink," Temperance invited, leading the back.

"Have a seat," she gestured toward the breakfast nook.

Scout obeyed and within minutes a warm plate of food was set in front of her, as well as a steaming mug of hot chocolate. It had been hours since her last meal and her stomach growled as the smells assaulted her.

"Go ahead," Temperance urged her.

"Thank you," Scout offered her first spoken words since she had arrived, "It smells good."

"You are welcome," came the reply. And though the words were very precise and proper, there was so much warmth behind them that Scout nearly believed that they were true- that she truly was welcome in the Booth household.

Ten minutes later, Scout looked up to see a young boy bounding up the stairs, snow melting quickly and dripping all over the floor.

"Hi, I'm Parker. I'm ten. Are you our new sister?" the words came out in a rush and he plopped down on the bench across from her.

"I'm Scout," she told him.

"Parker Booth," Temperance scowled at the wet floor, "You need to walk back downstairs and take off all of your snow apparel before you come back up again."

"Okay," the boy said grudgingly, getting up and heading back downstairs, "I'll be right back, Scout."

As Parker headed downstairs, Scout could hear several more people coming up the stairs. She shoveled the rest of her food in her mouth and washed it down with the lukewarm remains of the hot chocolate.

They filed up the steps in pairs. Scout counted seven other girls around her age, plus Ken and the man she assumed to be Seeley Booth. The two men were holding her things while the girls were chattering back and forth with each other. When they reached the top of the steps and saw Scout, an awkward silence descended.

"Hi, I'm Allie," a dark-skinned girl introduced herself, breaking the silence, "And these guys are Lily, Erin, Kirsten, Kara, Laura and Terri. What's your name?"

"Scout," she replied simply, trying to remember who was who.

"Hello Scout, I'm Seeley Booth," the man shifted her things under one arm and offered a hand. She shook it.

"Why don't we get you settled in?" he asked next.

She nodded, glad to escape from the scrutiny she felt from the other girls. She handed her dishes to Temperance and followed Booth back through the house.

"You'll be back here for now," he said, leading her to a small room off of the living room, "Then once you adjust we'll get you settled in permanently upstairs."

"Okay," she watched as Booth and Ken, who had followed them, place her things on the floor.

The room was comfortably furnished and felt warm and inviting. She was glad to be rooming alone, at least to begin with. At one house she had been forced to share a room with three other girls. Parker Booth bounded into the room grinning.

"Hi Scout," he hopped on the bed, dangling his legs, "Do you like your room? Mine's right across the hall! We're special 'cause we get to live in the addition and everybody else is upstairs. Wanna see my room? I've got Green Lantern on my wall and everything!"

"Hey Bud," the elder Booth ruffled his son's hair, "Slow down. You don't have to do everything tonight."

"Yeah, I guess not," the boy hopped down off of the bed, "Well, welcome to our home, Scout. I'm glad you're here."

Parker looked up at his dad, who nodded towards the door. The two Booths left, leaving Scout alone with her social worker.

"I think I'm going to hit the road now," he informed her, "If you need anything, just call."

She nodded and he left. Alone with her thoughts, she retrieved her sketchpad and drawing pencils from her tattered shoulder bag. Stretching out on the bed, she began to sketch idly. Drawing had always been an outlet for her- a place to retreat from whatever situation she found herself in. The lines took shape and before she knew it she was staring into the face of Parker Booth.

"You have talent," Scout nearly fell off of the bed at the sound. She hadn't heard Temperance enter the room.

"Your son is very easy to draw."

"Parker is my step-son," she corrected gently, "He's only here every other weekend. Most of the time he lives in Washington DC with his mother."

"Oh," a little sadness crept into Scout's voice.

"Hey Dr. B., Scout," Allie popped her head in the doorway, "We're gonna play Pictionary, are you guys in?"

Scout glanced at her half-finished drawing, then up at Temperance Brennan's kind blue eyes, and nodded, following them out of the room.

"I call Scout," Parker said as they joined the group.

It was a cold, bleak night in that rural town in Maryland. But inside the Booth house, for the first time since she had been placed in the System, Scout Davis felt her cold heart begin to thaw. Maybe, just maybe, she had found a good home after all.


	3. Winter: Noon

**For BoneDry, a good friend, who has her own skull to pore over and needs only a lab coat.**

**Winter:**

**Noon:**

Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth donned her parka and a pair of gloves and stepped out onto the deck that overlooked her backyard. She sat down on a deck chair and observed the scene below her.

Booth, Parker, and Jake were engrossed in a fierce snowball battle. While the two older Booth's were being gracious in allowing eight year-old Jake to hit them multiple times, they were none too gentle with each other. At twenty-four Parker could easily match Booth blow for blow. She winced as Booth took a snowball in the groin. Jake jumped on him while Parker stood at a safe distance laughing.

Meanwhile, Julie and Jenny were taking turns lugging four year-old Hope up the sledding hill. The twenty year-olds were clearly enjoying spending their winter break at home, and she and Booth had been more than happy to have them. Hope was eating up all of the attention as well. Presently, she was situated between Julie's legs, squealing with delight as they flew down the hill yet again. Hope threw her hands up in the air, throwing Julie off-balance and sending them both toppling off of the sled and into the snow. Unfazed, Hope picked herself up, brushed herself off and grabbed the sled, ready to tackle the hill again.

A snowball hit the deck railing and her attention turned back to the boys. Booth was the one wearing the smirk and hefting another snowball.

"Seeley Booth," she warned teasingly, "Don't you dare hit me with that snowball!"

He grinned, and then launched it at her. She ducked as it flew over her head and hit the siding of the house behind her.

"I warned you, Booth!" she called down to him.

"Bring it on, Bones!" came the reply.

She waved him back to Parker and Jake. She would retaliate when he least expected it. Besides, she was enjoying being the observer for the time being.

She had always enjoyed observing people. As a child she had observed her parents and the easy way they had interacted with each other. As an adolescent, she had enjoyed observing the myriads of people who flocked around Russ, wondering what quality he had that she did not. As a ward of the foster care system she had observed how many people prejudged her, and those like her, without caring what had gotten them there or what burdens they carried as a result.

Through college and grad school she had learned to take what had started as a hobby, and turn it into a career. A forensic anthropologist was nothing if not an observer. And since people did not seem to be her strong point, she had turned to bones. She could spend hours poring over one portion of one bone without tiring. She reveled in the minutia; piecing the smaller parts together to form a larger whole. Reading bones was like reading a biography of that individual's life. And she was very good at it.

When Booth had come along- and once she had blackmailed him into taking her into the field- she had started observing human behavior again. It had irked her to no end how easily Booth could discern whether someone was lying or not. He did more than observe people- he interacted with them and got them to reciprocate. And so she observed him. In the lab he was unsure of himself; in the interrogation room as cocky as his belt buckle. In dangerous scenarios he was invincible; in private, sharing about his past, he was vulnerable. But the thing she had learned above all, after years of observation, was that- no matter where he was- Seeley Booth did not just observe life- he lived it.

Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth stood up from her deck chair, gathered up a snowball, and nailed her husband in his C4 vertebra. It was time to stop observing and live a little bit.


	4. Winter: Sunset

**Winter:**

**Sunset:**

'Twas the night before Christmas in the Booth household. The tree was trimmed, the stockings hung, the presents laid out neatly around the tree. A house full of Booths young and old lay sleeping, covers wrapped tightly to fend off the cold winter night. Wrapped in a blanket of her own, unable to sleep, Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth gazed at the lights of the Christmas tree and let her mind drift to her family.

Six years ago Parker and Jenny had surprised no one but themselves when they had admitted their feelings for one another and then married six months later. Booth had watched Parker's feelings for the young girl they had adopted into their family grow over the years and had been the one to assure his son that the family would support their relationship. Maryland had no laws forbidding the union, so they chose to marry there. Even Booth, though, admitted to the oddity of handing over his daughter(albeit adopted) to his son in marriage. A year after their wedding, twins Evie and Alex were born. Two years later came Peter and Elizabeth. In March they were expecting yet again- twins again- Parker was considering a vasectomy. Jenny had requested a straightjacket for Christmas.

Julie, meanwhile, had graduated with a Masters in criminology, joined her father at the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and had just made the rank of Special Agent. As of the New Year she would be the FBI latest agent attached to the Jeffersonian Institute just as Booth had been so many years ago. She was single and satisfied, preferring to borrow her siblings' children rather than start a family of her own.

Jake and Hope, the two younger Booths, were still at home. Jake was a senior and busy filling out college applications. His goal was to work in computer database management and design. Hope was slogging her way through Junior High. Eighth grade girls were not the nicest people on the planet, and Hope was counting the day until she would be done and could call herself a high-schooler. She was leaning toward forensic anthropology as a career, though she was not positive yet.

"Penny for your thoughts," Booth's husky voice cut through her reverie as he slipped under the blanket with her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"I'm not sure what that means," she smiled up at him, "But I was thinking about family."

"Oh," he said quietly, "I'm sorry, Bones. I know this can be a rough time of year for you; thinking about the past and all."

"Actually, I wasn't thinking about my parents at all, Booth," she gave him a small squeeze and looked up at him, "I was thinking about _our _family."

"They're growing up."

"Yes."

"We're getting old."

"Inevitable."

"I love being a grandpa, Bones."

"I enjoy being a grandparent as well, Booth."

"But?" he could hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Booth," she turned to face him, unwrapping them from the blanket, "For years now I have enjoyed being a mother, an author, a guest speaker at FBI seminars, and now a grandmother. But now our children are nearly grown, the book series is finished, the speaking engagements are limited, and it's not as if we have to raise our grandchildren."

"What are you saying, Bones?" he was listening intently, eyes fixed on hers, "What is it that you want to do?"

"The Jeffersonian called," her eyes gleamed, "They need a Forensic Anthropologist," she paused, and then rushed ahead with the rest of her thought, "They offered me my old position, Booth, and I accepted. I start January second."

Booth's eyes widened, then relaxed, and his shoulders began shaking as a grin spread over his face. He encircled his wife in a hug and laughed out loud.

"Booth," frustrations tinged her voice as she loosened herself from his grip. She couldn't tell if he was angry or bemused.

"Booth! Stop laughing like a fool! Are you upset? Should I have consulted you about this first?"

Booth stopped and stared at his wife, "I'm not upset, Bones. And really, when have you ever had to ask my permission to do something? I'm just laughing because I've been waiting for this to happen for quite a while now."

"Really?" she looked at him incredulously.

"Really!" he looked at her earnestly, "Bones, you are an amazing mother and wife, but you are also a scientist- and a world-renowned one at that- and I would be shocked if you went through the rest of your life never once wishing you could go back to the lab. I'm happy for you."

"Truly?"

"Truly," he placed a kiss on her forehead, "Though I expect you NOT to run off with whoever they partner you up with this time!"

She smacked his shoulder lightly, "I highly doubt our daughter will want that, Booth!"

"Seriously? Julie's your partner? Does she know?" the questions came one right after the other.

"Yes, I am serious, Julie is my partner. No, she does not know yet because I had not told you."

"Well I'm honored, Temperance."

"Well you should be, Seeley."

"Bedtime?"

"Yes."

They stood up, walking up to their bedroom arm in arm.

"Look, Bones, mistletoe!"

It was several minutes before they got upstairs and several hours before they got to sleep.


	5. Spring: Dawn

**Spring:**

**Dawn:**

It had been one week. One week since Special Agent Seeley Booth had impulsively driven down to a marina. One week since he had waved goodbye to a man he had once considered a friend. One week since the look on his partner's face- the sadness in her eyes- had made him determine to shoot Sully should he and his floppy hair ever set foot in DC again. One week since his resolve to never be added to the growing list of people who had abandoned her had been strengthened. One week since Dr. Temperance Brennan had emerged from her lab.

Oh, she had loosened up quite a bit after Gordon Gordon had fed her that line about not being able to lead a purposeless life. The arguing between them had settled back down to their usual bickering banter. But she'd changed- had buried herself in her work at the Jeffersonian. It needed to stop. She needed to smile again and he needed his best friend back.

He swaggered into the Jeffersonian, trying to exude as much confidence as could. He'd worn his white polo shirt underneath his black sports coat, threw on a flashy pair of socks, and the cocky belt buckle. He was not taking no for an answer. He spotted Angela and decided to test the waters there first.

"She still here?" he asked, knowing full well he had seen her car in the garage on the way in.

"Yup," Angela confirmed, "You here to get her out?"

"Well I'm not here to see Hodgins."

"Not sure how to take that, G-man," Hodgins came up behind Angela, kissing her neck.

"Cam's right," Booth grumbled, "You two seriously need a cold shower!"

"Can we shower together?" Angela asked coyly, "'Cause that might actually be kinda kinky."

"Um," Hodgins swallowed, "You have no idea just how kin-"

"I'm leaving," Booth said, heading for Bones' office.

"She's in Limbo," Angela called after him.

He changed direction and headed toward Limbo. She was concentrating deeply when he approached. The sleeves of her shirt rolled up neatly, her elbows supporting her as she pieced together a shattered skull. A bottle of Elmer's glue lay open on the table beside her elbow. He watched silently as her eyes roved among the hundreds of shards of bone. A triumphal gleam made her face light up as she found the piece she was looking for, dabbed Elmer's on it, and returned the shard to its proper place on the skull.

"Having fun?" he walked into the room.

She jumped a little, but recovered quickly, "Booth! A little warning next time please? And yes, I am enjoying myself, thank you very much."

"Reconstructing Piltdown Man, there Bones?"

"Booth," her longsuffering voice was in full swing, "Piltdown Man was a hoax."

"I know that, Bones," he rolled his eyes, "That was just a little skeleton humor for you."

"Oh, well, alright," she turned back to the skull.

Booth leaned up against the table, mimicking Bones' pose and picking up pieces as if he were examining them as well.

"Planning on rejoining the human race anytime soon, Bones?"

She gently slapped his hand, "I am very busy here Booth. I'm fulfilling my _purpose_."

"Yes, well, my _purpose_," he imitated her tone, "Is to get you out of the lab. By force if necessary."

She rolled her eyes, "Booth, I'm fairly certain I could best you in a physical altercation; though we both know you would never use force on me."

"Now who's the cocky one?" he grinned, plucking the bone shards from her hand and steering her by the shoulders out of Limbo.

"I'll scream 'kidnap'," she threatened weakly, allowing him to guide her through the lab past a snogging Angela and Hodgins.

"Been there, done that Bones," he replied easily, "Hey! Hodgela, get a room already or I'm calling Cam!"

Once in the parking garage, Brennan shook herself free of Booth's grip, "I'm out of the lab now, Booth. Are you satisfied?"

"Not yet," he pointed to his SUV, "Hop in."

"I have my own car, you realize?"

"Yep, but you might come back here and I won't allow it."

"Booth!"

"Bones, look at me," she did, grudgingly, and he continued, "You haven't left that lab in a week," she started to protest and he put his finger over her lips, "Yes, I realize that you need to fulfill your purpose- and believe me, I support you in that, I really do, Bones. But as your friend I cannot allow you to continue to bury yourself in that lab. I won't."

She sighed but allowed him to help her into the SUV.

"So where are we going?" she asked as he pulled out of the garage.

"To the annual Cherry Blossom Festival, Bones. Biggest show in town right now."

"Cherry Festival?" she raised an eyebrow, "Elucidate."

"Does that big fancy word mean that I know something that World-Renowned Forensic Anthropologist, AND best-selling author _Doctor_ Temperance Brennan does not?"

She shrugged, "Everything happens eventually, you know?"

"Yeah, I've heard that somewhere," he grinned, "Well _Doctor_ Brennan, the Cherry Festival marks the anniversary of the 1912 gifting of 3000 cherry trees from Japan to the good ol' US of A. They were planted along the Tidal Basin, and the first Festival was held in 1935. The Festival used to be only a week long, but since '95 they expanded it to two weeks. This also happens to correspond with the time of year the trees come into bloom. It's a beautiful sight, Bones."

"It sounds," she hesitated, "Interesting."

"It is," he pulled into an already-crowded parking lot, looking for a space, "And over a million people come every year too. We'll have to walk from here to the Basin. Then we can stroll the path, take in a show, take out a paddle boat, whatever you want to do Bones."

They parked, and soon had joined the throngs of people heading for the Basin. Brennan was amazed at the sights, sounds and colors all around her. As an anthropologist she recognized the significance of marking historical events with a communal celebration; and this was definitely a well-organized one. They went from show to show along the way, sometimes stopping, other times passing by. They stopped and sampled some of the Japanese cuisine along the way too. Booth got Sushi. Finally they made it to the Tidal Basin.

"This is-is-" she struggled for a term to describe the beauty around her, "Ineffable."

"Dictionary definition?"

"Something that is beyond the grasp of a verbal language. Indescribable, in the vernacular."

"Yeah, that clears it up for me," his mouth was half full of food.

She slapped his shoulder lightly, "It means I agree with you Booth, this is beautiful. Thank you."

A genuine smile spread across her face, lighting it up like a Christmas tree. Booth picked up a fallen cherry blossom and offered it to her.

"A beautiful blossom for a beautiful lady," he bowed.

She blushed, and tucked the blossom behind her ear. He smiled in approval.

Then the sky above them opened up and let loose a torrent of rain. Within seconds they were soaking wet. Booth removed his jacket, holding it above them as the rain pounded them mercilessly. There was no thunder or lightning, but for the next fifteen minutes straight the rain came down in buckets. They were so far away from the SUV, or any other shelter save the trees, that they simply accepted that they would be soaked and continued their stroll through the Basin. His white polo shirt clung tightly to his chest, and her colored top became a second skin, plastered tightly to her. And as the torrent eased into a warm Spring rain, Seeley Booth saw that his mission had been accomplished. Temperance Brennan, his best friend, his Bones, had finally gotten her smile back.


	6. Spring: Sunrise

**Spring:**

**Sunrise:**

It was spring. Flowers were coming into bloom, birds were singing, pregnant women were giggling over layettes and baby bonnets, men were getting their brackets in order for March Madness, and children were counting the days to summer vacation. Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth, on the other hand, was up to her elbows in death- and loving it.

"So what do you think, Bones?" Booth moved to stand beside her and leaned on the table with his elbows.

"I _think_ ," she said, "That you are blocking my light. _And_ putting your arms on my table!"

He grinned and moved away.

The problem was, she thought, returning to examine the bones, was that this was not her table. Nor could you see her office from the northwest corner of the platform. Nor would she turn to see Zack or Hodgins or Angela should she need a second opinion. That would not be happening this time around, because instead of being an employee of the Jeffersonian she was merely as outside opinion doing a favor for her husband on a case that the FBI could not seem to solve.

This was not the first time this had been the case. She had consulted for the FBI several times now since Booth had taken over Cullen's position as Deputy Director and since she had left to concentrate on writing and being a foster mother. She had also given numerous lectures at FBI Headquarter at Quantico on the various applications of forensic anthropology in the criminal justice arena. Some days she missed it, other days she was content.

Pushing all feelings, good or bad, aside she concentrated on the remains in front of her. Ten hours and one very impatient Deputy Director Seeley Booth later, she handed in her findings. The leading Special Agent on the case took one look at the results and headed out to arrest one of the suspects that he had interviewed very early on in the case.

"Good work, Bones," Booth put an arm around her as they walked to the parking garage, "You really pulled my butt out of the sling there."

She glanced at his posterior, "I'm not sure what that means, but you are welcome."

"Wanna head to the diner for ol' times' sake?" he asked.

She shrugged, fatigue creeping in as she settled into her seat. She _was_ hungry though and her stomach growled loudly.

"Guess that's a yes," Booth smiled.

They sat down at their old table, ordered their usual meal and settled into a companionable silence. When she had finished her food she reached over to pick at his fries.

"Just like old times tonight huh, Bones?"

"I suppose," she hesitated, "Though so many things have changed as well."

"Yeah," he leaned back in his seat, "You are getting older now I suppose. Took you ten hours instead of six or seven."

She threw the fry she was holding at him, "If _I'm_ getting old than _you_ are even older! And I did just solve a case for you in ten hours that no one on your team could solve in a month!"

He tipped an imaginary cap, "Touché. But just for a while, back in the lab there, we were," he searched for the right words, "_Us_. Booth and Bones. Putting bad guys away where they belong. You using your crack forensic anthropology skills, me using my gut. Don't you miss it?"

"Honestly," she started, "Yes. Some days. Some days I do wish that we were 'us' as you put it, working side-by-side again. And then I realize how illogical that is. The passage of time, change in situation, age, status, make it impossible for us to be who we once were. That is why regret serves no purpose. We cannot change the decisions that we have made over the years and become something that we are not," she nibbled on the end of a fry, then continued, "I am content right now, Booth, being a mother to those girls who have been abandoned by their own mothers and fathers. I can connect with them in a way that I cannot with most other social groupings. I also enjoy writing as an outlet for all of the knowledge and experience that I have accumulated over the years, as well as doing the occasional 'favor' for the FBI. But my career does not define who I am as a person. I suppose that if I ever do become unsatisfied, or feel that I need to return then I will. But not tonight. Not right now."

"I've no doubt you will, Bones, no doubt at all," he smiled, proud of the strong woman that he married, then grinned mischievously, "Pie?"

"Seeley Booth," she looked at him knowingly, "You can ask me a thousand different times in a hundred different languages and I will still not eat your pie. I do not like my fruit cooked."

"Good to know some things never change, Bones," he said, putting the last bite in his mouth.

They stood up and walked out. They were not the same people they had been years ago. But then again, maybe they did not need to be after all.


	7. Spring: Noon

**Spring:**

**Noon:**

It was Spring in Washington, DC. Winter had been harsh and unforgiving that year. Ice had paralyzed the city for a week. All things government had come to a standstill. But spring had finally come and with it warmer weather and a sense of renewal. And so the daily DC crowd found it odd that, on this first day of the spring thaw, the most intuitive restaurateur in the city had closed his doors to the public. There was, as always, a method to his madness, and he knew the people who would gather at Wong Foo's today were more than worth any potential financial loss he might take.

The first family to enter was the Booths. Sid smiled, remembering the first time Dr. Brennan had followed then-Special Agent Seeley Booth into his restaurant, orbited by her 'squint squad' and their gruesome crime scenes photos. He had watched the two of them argue, and confess, and grow a real relationship here. Booth was a good friend and Sid had been happy to see him find a measure of stability in life. And he had never seen the good doctor so pleased and content as when she was by Booth's side. Parker, Jenny, Julie, Jake, and baby Hope were there as well; just five of the young lives the couple had touched over the years.

The Hodgins family came next. Angela was balancing a child on each hip while three more streamed by Jack as they came through the door. The older five came in a bit more subdued, but smiled when they saw the Booths were there as well. Ten children was far short of the million that Angela had once aspired to, but she and Jack were more than satisfied. She was also very proud of the fact that she was the same weight that she had been when she and Jack had married. They had stayed on at the Jeffersonian for a while after the Booths had left, then had traveled the world for several years, visiting all of the great art museums before coming back to the DC area to raise their family.

Next through the doors was Dr. Camille Saroyan. She was still single, still childless, and still could not care less. She was also still heading the current team at the Jeffersonian, and doing very well. Their conviction rate almost matched what it had been in the Booth and Brennan era, and though she had been offered several higher-paying, higher-ranking positions, she had not left. Nor did she have any plans to that effect. As long as there were squints working for the FBI, they would need her to guide them in thinking outside of the proverbial box.

The adults sat at the large circular booth they had always inhabited when they had come. They talked, swapped old stories about the glory days, rehashed old jokes that would never go flat. The children ran around, playing some form of tag. Sid didn't mind too much, it was good to see them all together again. And just as the noise level rose to its peak, the door opened one final time, and a hush fell swiftly over the restaurant.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the curly-haired man who entered first spoke, "As you know, my last ten years have totally been spent looking forward to this day. I thank you all for standing in support of this. Seriously, I could not have done it without you."

Dr. Lance Sweets moved aside to make room for the figure standing behind him, "I present to you, a fully rehabilitated, Dr. Zachary Uriah Addy."

They all converged on him, enveloping him with their love and support. Years ago, they had all gathered to celebrate his doctorate. It was the day that Brennan had first started to consider Booth's thesis about there being more than one type of family. It was the day she had convinced him that they were- all of them- his squints. And now the "Squint Squad" were reunited once at last. And though they would never again solve another crime together, it did not matter. They were a whole family again.

Spring had come to Washington DC and with it came renewal.


	8. Spirng: Sunset

**Spring:**

**Sunset:**

"_You abandoned me!"_

The words rung in Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth's ears as she studied the bones in front of her. She was trying hard to concentrate on the task at hand, but the words continued to haunt her.

"_You abandoned me!"_

Words spoken with all of the anger and frustration of fifteen year-old teenage angst. She did not know- could not have known- the impact those word would have on their intended recipient. Or perhaps, the doctor thought, she did, and the hurt was simply an indication of a much deeper truth.

"_You abandoned me!"_

Dr. Brennan-Booth had arrived home late last night to an empty house, had made herself a cup of tea, and relaxed on the sofa. It wasn't uncommon. Booth would not be home for another hour, and Hope, the last remaining Booth child still at home, was out with friends. Or at least, her mother thought she was. Just as she had begun to unwind a very irate Hope came charging down the steps demanding to know where her mother had been and why she had not answered any of the teenager's calls. She explained that she had been at work and her battery had died, and that she had left the charger in Booth's SUV. She felt it was a logical explanation: Hope did not. Hope had come home, to an empty house, calling, waiting for some response, for hours. And thus the outburst:

"_You abandoned me for your stupid bones!"_

Hope had stormed up the stairs then, and she had let her. This was not the first time she had gone toe-to-toe with an angry teenage girl. She could not remember it ever hurting this much though. A part of her felt like screaming back at her daughter that when she was her daughter's age _her_ parents truly had abandoned her. Not simply been out of contact for a few hours, but had truly left and not come back to the point where young Temperance assumed they were dead. She also could remind Hope of Russ' abandonment shortly after their parents' disappearance; of Michael's and Peter's and Sully's. And while Temperance Brennan-Booth had managed to have a rather trauma-free, stable life, Temperance Brennan had a lifetime's worth of experiences when it came to abandonment.

Which was probably why, in the end, she had chosen to let the teenager go. Because she _did_ know what it was like to come home to an empty house with no explanation for where the rest of the household was or if they were coming home soon. And had her parents come through the door after midnight that first night, she very well might have reacted in the same manner that Hope did.

Large hands eased onto her trapezius and began easing away the tension she did not realize had been building up.

"I thought you were in meetings again all day?" she would recognize his touch anywhere.

"I did."

"You cancelled them?"

"I did."

"Why?"

"My girls need me," Booth kissed her lightly on the neck and steered her back to her office for some modicum of privacy.

"I assume you've spoken with Hope, then," it was more of a statement then a question as she moved around her desk for the paperwork she still had to fill out.

"Yup," he stretched out on the couch. He had been thrilled to find his couch was still in her office after all the years she had been gone. He loved that couch.

"Was she upset with you as well?" she tried to keep the hurt out of her voice, but was not successful.

"Not as much," Booth said gently, "But I wasn't the first to get home either."

Forsaking her search for the paperwork, she joined Booth on the couch, "She said I abandoned her."

"I know," he drew her close, stroking her hair.

"She said I abandoned her for my bones."

"I know that too," the stroking continued; she started to find it more annoying than soothing.

She sat up and faced him, "Have I, Booth? Have I abandoned our daughter in my selfish desire to return to the Jeffersonian? All of those years I stayed home for each one of those teenage girls, and Parker, and Jake, but when our daughter gets to that age, I leave home and go back to work," a lone tear meandered down her cheek, "Have I done the same thing emotionally to her that my parents did to me?"

He caught the tear with his thumb and sought her eyes, "Bones, don't ever think that! Hope was just a scared, frustrated kid last night," he kissed her lightly to ward off any protest, "She was the one being selfish."

"But, Booth, I have fallen back into the same patterns as the first time I worked here," she was frustrated now more than anything, and torn as well, "This job demands precision, and precision takes time; time that I could spend with you, time that I could spend with Hope, time that I used to spend with our children."

"Our children are grown, Bones, even Hope for the most part. I know you are concerned that you are short-changing her where you didn't anyone else, but think about it. Those girls really did need you at home. They truly had been abandoned; by their own parents, relatives, the system. Hope has been sheltered from all of that. She doesn't really think you've abandoned her, she was just mad that she had to make her own dinner, and frustrated because she couldn't get a hold of us, and scared because it was late when we got home and she had been worrying for several hours by then. You just happened to take the brunt of that- unfortunately."

"But what if those were her true emotions?"

"Relying on psychology, Bones? That's not you."

She shoved him lightly, a tenuous smile on her face, "Booth, I'm serious."

"I'm serious too, Bones. You can't expect us to get through Hope's teenage years without a little bit of drama."

"Is that your infamous _gut_, talking?" she poked him playfully in the stomach.

"Possibly," he pointed to the doorway, "Or possibly it's my eyes."

Hope stood on the opposite side of the glass door- restless- looking as if she were weighing whether or not she should enter. Booth motioned her in with his hand. The two older Booths stood up to face her.

"I'm sorry about last night, Mom," the words came out in a rush as she flew into her mother's waiting embrace, "It was just late and I was scared, and I had a crappy day at school, and- I'm really sorry. I really do think it's kind of cool. You know, what you do here and all. It's good work. Important work."

"You are important, too, Hope," she tried to pick the right words, wishing she were more intuitive, like Booth, "I value you and your emotions. I will endeavor to take paperwork home with me so that I am least at home, and not here all night."

"Thanks, Mom," Hope pulled back, "Hey, do you think you could show me what you do? You know, like a tour of the lab or something?"

"I believe I can accommodate you there, yes," Temperance smiled at her daughter, "That way you will know what I am doing while I am burning the midnight oil."

Two shocked faces looked at her, "What, did I get that one wrong as well?"

Two heads shook.

"No, Mom, you got it right!"

"Everything happens eventually," Booth put his arms around his girls and escorted them out of the office, "And to celebrate, I'm taking you both out to the diner for some pie!"

Two pairs of grey-blue eyes rolled.

"Dad, you know we don't like our fruit cooked!"

"I know, Bones Jr.; believe me, I know."

They both hit him on their way to the car.


	9. Summer: Dawn

**Summer:**

**Dawn:**

Dr. Temperance Brennan sighed. She hated these public appearance requirements. It was the annual 4th of July picnic for employees of the Jeffersonian Institution- and the donors as well. The donors were the reason that her presence was required. And so she had donned an appropriate costume consisting of elements of red, white, and blue, and made sure she smiled at and greeted everyone who introduced themselves. Dr. Goodman had stressed many times the need for good public relations with the donor community.

"Hello," a man tapped her on the shoulder and extended his hand, "I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth with the FBI. Are you Temperance Brennan?"

She couldn't think what the FBI might want with her. Had they located her parents finally? Or perhaps Russ was a wanted fugitive by now? A part of her mind recalled Dr. Goodman mentioning that they might be called upon for some consulting work as well. He was speaking again-

"-said my name is Special Agent Seeley Booth from the FBI. I'm looking for Dr. Temperance Brennan," he sounded agitated, though she wasn't quite certain why.

"I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan," she informed him.

"Good," he sounded relieved, "You're the bone lady, right?"

She cringed at the terminology, "Forensic anthropologist. I aid in determining the cause, manner and mode of death using skeletal remains."

"Yeah, I said that," he hurried on, "The Bureau sent me over to ask you for a consult."

"At a work function?" not that she was there for the enjoyment factor, but still she did have people she needed to introduce herself to, "I do keep office hours."

"Couldn't get past your assistant, Jack," he shrugged.

"Zack," she corrected, "Jack is our entomologist."

"Whatever. Can you do the consult?" he waved the file in front of her face.

"Can? Yes," the man was getting on her nerves and she ground out her response, "Will? Not at this moment. Drop it off at my office during _office hours_ and I will see that it gets looked at."

"Look," he put his hands on his hips, "Why can't I just give these to you, have you take a look at them and then you can let me know what you think?"

"There is a proper chain of command for this Agent-" she couldn't recall his name.

"Booth," he supplied.

" Booth," she didn't miss a beat, "And I _do_ have other remains that require my attention at the moment."

"Here," he put the file in her hands, "Just take it and get back to me, OK? And don't take too long, 'cause I don't like having murderers on the loose."

She sighed and took the folder, "You are very pushy, you realize."

"I take murder very seriously, Bones."

"As you should, being an FBI agent," her brain caught up with his words, "What did you call me?"

"Bones. You know? The whole working with skeletons thing? Bones."

"I don't know what you mean, but that seems like a very derogatory name, so I would appreciate it if you would refrain from using it again."

"Aw, com'on! It makes perfect sense."

She rolled her eyes and walked away.

"Will you at least look at the file, Bones?" he called.

She waved, using the file, and continued walking.

Around her the party was in full swing. She could see that under one of the larger tents, Dr. Goodman had become very inebriated and was making a rather large fool of himself in front of their colleagues and the donors. She spotted her assistant, Zack Addy, watching the scene with barely hidden amusement.

"What happened to Dr. Goodman?" she inquired.

"It appears he imbibed a good deal of punch," came the reply.

"Yeah," Jack Hodgins boasted, coming up behind Zack and clapping the younger man on the shoulder, "We spiked it with our own special brew from the lab."

"This is turning into a total fiasco," Angela Montanegro warned, joining the small group, a glass of punch in her own hand, "You guys are going to be dead if he ever finds out." She noticed the file Brennan was holding, "What'cha got there, Sweetie?"

"Nothing," Brennan answered, "Oh, and Zack, if a man named Special Agent Seeley Booth calls, don't let him get through to me."


	10. Summer: Sunrise

**Summer:  
Sunrise:**

The world-renowned forensic anthropologist stared at the building that housed the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal lab and for the first time in her tenure there, felt trepidation. For years it had been her refuge and safe place; a home-like atmosphere that she had never felt before. She wondered if her actions had jeopardized that.

"Going to stand here all day, Bones?" she jumped slightly at the sound of Booth's voice.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, "This fear is not logical, Booth. I do not like it."

"Ah, but a lot has changed in the two weeks that you've been gone."

"What has changed, Booth?" she shook her head, "I am still a forensic anthropologist. I am still an employee of the Jeffersonian. My office is still in the same location. And you, Booth, are still my partner."

"Well, yeah, Bones, those things are still the same, but you- you aren't," he lifted her left hand up to his mouth and kissed her ring finger, "You left here Dr. Temperance Brennan- you are returning Dr. Temperance BOOTH! You're a married woman now, Bones, and you are nervous about facing the music in there."

"Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth," she corrected him, "And I don't hear any music emanating from the lab. It would hardly be professional and I doubt Cam would allow it."

"I'm going to ignore that," Booth said, then grinned, "I'm telling you, though, all that hyphen did was add more time to our paperwork load. _Booth_ is the shorter name- now you have to write both names out."

She rolled her eyes, and then became serious again, "Things _will_ change, though, and I haven't adapted to change well in the past."

He steered her onto a nearby bench and tilted her chin up until their eyes met, "You will do fine, Bones. You are the consummate professional. If you go in there all nervous and unsure, people won't know how to react. But if you walk in with that business-as-usual attitude that I _know_ you can pull off, people will respect that and will follow your lead. These are our friends; they will be happy for us, but respectful as well. Of course, Angela _will_ still squeal."

She smiled, "Well, yes; and she will most likely want to know every detail as well."

"Don't make me look bad in front of the squints," Booth teased.

"Never."

He enveloped her in a hug and she sat in his arms, enjoying the stability that they brought to her world.

"What about us, Booth?" she asked next.

"What do you mean, Bones?"

"Well, how do we conduct ourselves, now that we are partners who are also married? We did promise Cullen that we would remain professional, and he was gracious enough to allow us to continue working together as partners."

"Gracious?" Booth snorted, "Bones, we've got the highest conviction rate in the country. The only reason they would allow us to break up was if one of us were dead."

"We need a line," she was thinking out loud, "I, of course, have no problem compartmentalizing, however, you might struggle."

Booth groaned, "A line? Didn't I buy you an eraser to take care of that?"

"Well, obviously we eradicated _that_ line, Booth," she waggled her eyebrows knowingly at him, "But this line will be more of a code of conduct for us to adhere to while we are working together," she paused and looked at him pointedly, "I will NOT have you groping me at the Jeffersonian like we are Angela and Hodgins."

"Agreed," Booth had experienced enough discomfort in the other couple's presence to see the sense in that, "What about hugging?"

"Guy hugs."

"Seriously?"

"While we are on the clock, yes," she nodded firmly, "And no kissing either."

"No kissing?" a pained look spread across his face, "That's just cruel, Bones!"

"Booth, kissing is not appropriate work behavior," she chided.

"Well, I don't know about you, but _Dr. Brennan_ used to kiss me at work."

"I did not," she protested.

"Let's see," he began ticking the points on his fingers, "You kissed my fingers once-"

"You put _your_ hand over _my_ coffee lid. That was not a kiss."

"Then," he continued, ignoring her, "There was the kiss on my cheek at the hospital-"

"I was grateful for your gesture to Russ, and it was more of a peck than a kiss."

"And let us not forget," he said dramatically, "Your full-frontal assault on me in your office, under the mistletoe, in front of Caroline Julian no less."

"It was necessary to secure the conjugal trailer for my family," she blushed, remembering the thrill that had coursed through her body that day.

"_Your_ gum ended up in _my_ mouth, Temperance," he said huskily, "That was no platonic kiss."

"No," she admitted.

"So," Booth sat up straight, voice normal, "In light of your previous inappropriate actions, I think I should be allowed at least eight on-the-job kisses a week."

"Seven," she countered, "Per case, though, not per week."

"What if a case takes weeks to solve?" he complained.

"It will give you more motivation to solve it faster," she shrugged, "Besides, these guidelines are only for when we are on the clock."

"You work twenty-hour days sometimes," he pointed out.

"I have no doubt you will learn to become creative."

"Tongue allowed?"

"Booth!"

"Mistletoe."

"Fine," she relented, "As long as we are alone. But it will count toward your per-case minimum."

"How about three tongues and seven regulars?"

"Two, and still on a per-case basis."

"Ok, but I want two additional pecks too."

"So that would be two tongues, two pecks, and seven kisses per case?" she pondered it for a moment, "Yes, I suppose that will be satisfactory."

"You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Booth."

"But of course, Mr. Booth," she kissed him quickly on the lips, "Now let's go inside. I've got to get to work."

They walked side-by-side up the steps of the Jeffersonian, new line firmly in place. Every creature with ears within a ten-mile radius of the Jeffersonian heard Angela's "SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" as they entered the Lab. They truly were home.


	11. Summer: Noon

**Summer:**

**Noon:**

Booth leaned back in his chair in his boat at his cabin in the middle of the woods. Life was good. Yesterday the Booths and the Grants had arrived for their annual week-long sojourn at British America. Even after four years Booth still could not believe that Brennan had bought the property and built the cabin just for him. She had even remembered the 103-inch flat-screen TV. And every year since, Andy and the Grants would join them, just like he had dreamed about so long ago. So many dreams fulfilled, and so many other things he could never have dreamed as well.

Four years ago, the Booths were accommodating Parker when he came to visit on the weekends, fostering twins Jenny and Julie, and had just adopted their son, Jake. Now, Parker was living with them while attending college at the University of Maryland, they had adopted Jenny and Julie, and, just this past spring, little Hope Joy Booth had been born. She was the spitting image of her mother, and the center of attention at the Booth household.

"Dad! Dad!" Jake yelled from Booth's side, "I got a bite!"

"Here," Booth grabbed the dip net and moved over to help the five year-old, "Now go nice and slow so you don't lose him."

Five minutes and two wet Booths later, a 12-inch bass lay between them.

"Can we eat him for dinner tonight, Daddy?" Jake wanted to know.

"Well," Booth put his arm around Jake's shoulder, "He's not big enough for all of us, but maybe Mom'll cook him up just for you and me."

"Yay!"

Booth let Jake help him row back to shore, memories of a young Parker flashing across his mind. He wished that Rebecca had let him be more of a part of Parker's life when he was younger. A bolt of lightning cut the sky in half, dark grey clouds moving quickly to block out the sun. Thunder crashed in time with another flash of lightning as Booth docked the boat and hurried he and Jake and the fish into the cabin. Rain began beating furiously as they slipped inside, thunder rattling the windows.

"Everybody in?" Booth greeted his wife with a quick kiss.

"Yes."

"Good," he held up the bucket, "Got something for you to whip up for Jake and I."

"You know the rules, Booth," she pushed the bucket back toward him, "You catch it, you scale it, you clean it, _then_ I'll cook it."

"Yes, Ma'am," he threw her a mock salute, carrying Jake's prize with him out onto the screened-in back porch at the back of the cabin.

An old worn table sat waiting in the far corner for him and he got to work scaling the fish. Around him, raw power crackled and popped, the rain coming down in sheets- hard and steady. Water spit at him here and there as it leaked through the screen.

"Catch the big one today, Dad?" Parker joined him.

"Nope, this one's Jake's," he held up the half-scaled fish, "I didn't get any bites."

"Yeah well," Parker plopped down on one of the deck chairs, "It's only the first day; plenty of time for more fishing."

Booth nodded and tuned back to his work.

"Do you remember the first time you took me camping, Dad?" Parker asked.

"I remember it poured from the time we got to the campsite until about ten minutes after we left," Booth laughed at the old memory.

"Yeah, I always remember that trip every time we get a good rain," Parker nodded, "It was so wet we ended up sleeping in the Crown Victoria. You told me it was our own private hotel."

"I'd forgotten about that," Booth rinsed off the loose scales into the outdoor sink and set it in a chest that he had filled with ice.

He washed his hands and sat in the chair across from his son with a sigh, "Do you remember what we had for dinner that night?"

"Oh yeah," Parker grinned, "Spam and beans. You told me that it was what all real men ate when they went camping."

"Yeah," Booth mirrored his son's grin, "And I had to eat that every time after that too when we would camp. You insisted on it."

"Hey," the younger man threw up his arms, "All I knew was that my dad had said it was a real man's meal. Your word was gold, Dad. Used to drive Mom nuts when I'd come home with some new word or mannerism I'd picked up from you. Most of the time she didn't mind too much though she did turn down my request for a 'Cocky' belt buckle. Said it wouldn't go over too well in first grade."

Booth shook his head, "She was right. Can't believe you asked, though."

Parker became serious for a moment, "Of course I did, Dad, you were my hero when I was a kid."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Dad. You were an FBI agent, which trumped a cop on the playground, and you had a gun. For a while there is seemed like you and Dr. Bones were putting away a bad guy a week. I might not have understood everything that you did, but I knew you were the Good Guy- a real-life hero. I use to brag about you at school all of the time."

"You didn't hate me for not being there for you every day?"

"You were there when I needed you," he shrugged, "For T-Ball and the weekends. And I knew I could call you anytime if I really needed you. You were more of a dad to me then my friends whose dads lived with them."

Booth was stunned. For years he had carried around the guilt that he should have somehow been there for Parker more than two days a week. To find now that son truly had not cared- had loved him and viewed him as a hero- struck a chord in his heart.

"What about Captain Fantastic?" his voice was thick with emotion.

"Drew?" Parker shrugged again, "He was okay I guess. Better than most of the guys Mom dated. But he wasn't my dad. I couldn't wait to see you. And once you and Dr. Bones finally got married it was even better! You got the big house, and then all of the girls came. It was great! I had a great childhood."

"And you really didn't mind how little time we got together?"

"Well, sure, I'd have loved to have more. Why do you think I'm bumming around your place now? I mean, I love Mom, I really do, but I love living with you and Dr. Bones a lot!"

Bones called for the fish, breaking the moment between father and son. Still taken aback by the conversation, Booth was silent through the rest of the evening, watching his son through a new set of eyes. He was proud of the man that Parker was becoming- and of the hand he now knew that he'd had in that. It was humbling and overwhelming at the same time.

That night, when the cabin was still and everyone but he and Bones were asleep, he slipped into bed with her.

She was nursing Hope, but looked up when he came in, "You've been quiet tonight," it was more of a statement than a question.

"Parker and I talked," he started slowly, "He says that he had a great childhood. Said I was his hero growing up."

"I could have told you that," she smiled tenderly at him, "I cannot tell you the number of times he tried to hide your belt buckle in his overnight bag."

"Apparently Rebecca wouldn't get him one of his own," Booth chuckled.

"I should think not!" she laughed with him, putting Hope on her shoulder to burp the infant.

Booth's face turned serious, "It's just that- I mean all these years I-" he couldn't put words to his feelings.

"I know," Bones balanced Hope with one arm and cupped his cheek with the other, "I know. And I love you."

"Thanks, Bones."

"You are welcome, Booth," she smiled, and held out Hope to him, "Now will you be _my_ hero and put _our_ daughter in her crib?"

He did. And for the first night in twenty years, Seeley Booth went to bed guilt-free.


	12. Summer: Sunset

**Summer:**

**Sunset:**

They say that time brings perspective. That hindsight is 20/20. Staring slack-jawed at a computer screen in her college dorm room, Hope Joy Booth could not have agreed more, though she didn't know how she could have been so blind until now. She thought she knew everything about her parents; she was wrong.

Growing up in the Booth household she had known from an early age that her parents loved each other deeply. Oh sure, they bickered all of the time and brought new meaning to the phrase, 'fighting like an old married couple', but they never really seemed to be angry at each other. Most times, in fact, they seemed to enjoy the bickering and they egged each other on purposefully. She had also witnessed the deep looks that passed between them; whole conversations in which only a few words were spoken aloud. It was a powerful thing to behold. And they were constantly touching or making out all over the house; like teenagers, her brother Parker said. She had always wondered how her father would have reacted if she and any of her boyfriends had behaved the same way, but had never gotten up the courage to test him.

Of course, she mused as she read through the online article a third time, there had been other things that she had missed along the way. She had been at least four before she realized that her mother's first name was not, in fact, Bones, but Temperance. It was longer before she realized that her father's name was Seeley. As she grew older, her parents had filled her in on the more interesting branches of her family tree- Christine and Max Keenan- and had informed her that her own middle name was her mother's birth name. It was all very confusing, but they had done their best to answer all of her questions as openly and honestly as possible. But this? This she had never realized before.

It was an old article from a Washington newspaper that had been archived online. She had been doing some research on criminal justice techniques in the twenty-first century when she had stumbled upon it. A group of smiling faces gazed up at her. She knew them all, but she had never realized who they once were and all that they had accomplished. The article described, in glowing detail, about each of the members of the ace crime-fighting team at the Jeffersonian. It claimed that they held the highest conviction rate of criminal cases processed in the DC area. Following the 'Related Articles' link, Hope became even more stunned as she read story after story of her parents' exploits. The young Dr. Temperance Brennan and Special Agent Seeley Booth had certainly done their jobs well.

Her cell-phone rang, jarring her out of her reverie.

"Hi, Dad," she answered, "I was just thinking about you."

"Really?" she could hear the smile in her father's voice, "Good thoughts, I hope?"

"Yeah, Dad," she laughed, "Good thoughts. What's up?"

"Well," he paused slightly, then continued, "I'm in town for the night and was wondering if you'd like to catch dinner and a movie with your old man? You don't have to if you already have plans."

"No plans," she assured him, "Dinner sounds great! Thai food work for you?"

"Sounds good," she could hear the excitement in his voice.

"Great," it was her turn to pause, "Can we skip the movie though, Dad? I've got some questions for you. For a class I'm taking."

"Sure, Hon, no problem. I'll grab the Thai on my way over."

"Okay, Dad, see you soon."

They hung up.

Printing out all of the articles that she had read, Hope wondered what her dad's reaction would be to her questions. To her knowledge she could not recall ever hearing about her parents' days solving cases for the FBI. She knew that they had met during that time, of course, her 'Aunt' Angie had regaled her with tales of their four-year-long flirtation that had culminated with her mother's proposal of marriage at a drugstore. The commendations, accolades, and acclaim from mayors nationwide- and even the President in one article- these were things she had been blissfully unaware of until today. A knock sounded; her father had arrived with dinner.

She opened the door and relieved him of half of the boxes he was carrying. They moved to her couch and set everything down on the coffee table, and dug in.

"So what did you want to know, Kiddo?" the elder Booth asked, mouth half-filled with food.

"Well," she set her carton down on the table, "For my criminal justice class I have to write a paper on influential people in the criminal justice field during the early twenty-first century," she eyed him, trying to gage his reaction.

"Who'd you settle on?" no hint he knew where she was headed.

"I wasn't sure, so I started doing some research on some of the more prolific teams that worked back in the day. I settled on one that, according to The Post, was 'The Best Crime-Fighting Team of Their Generation'."

"Sounds like a winner."

"Dad," she was exasperated, "It was talking about you and Mom!"

She slid the stack of articles she had printed out over to him, "How did I miss all of this, Dad?"

Booth ran a hand through his hair, and then leafed through the stack, "It was all so long ago," he began, "It's not that we deliberately didn't tell you. Well, when you were little we did, I suppose. But some of these cases weren't exactly bedtime stories. As you got older you never asked, so we never volunteered."

"Are you ashamed of it all?"

"No," he shook his head firmly, "Not at all! But some of these," he pointed to an article on a killer named 'The Grave Digger', "They're not memories we wanted to relive; especially not with you kids."

"You and Mom were famous, Dad," she protested, "Here it talks about the 'world-renowned Forensic Anthropologist Dr. Temperance Brennan'. World-renowned? You'd think that might've been easy to bring up at dinner or _something_. My _classmates_ probably know more about you two than I do. My profs definitely do!"

"It was years ago, Hope, and again, most of the cases we worked were not kid-friendly by any stretch of the imagination. By the time you were old enough," he shrugged, "So much time had passed we just didn't think to bring it up. Honestly, we never meant to leave you in the dark."

"Okay," she hated it when he could calm her down with that charm smile, "So will you help me with my research?"

"You're still going to do your paper on us?"

"You _were_ 'The Best'!"

"That we were."

They finished their food, grabbed bowls of ice cream for dessert, and he proceeded to start from the very beginning, "You see, it started when I went to the airport to pick up your mother- who I'd had detained by Homeland Security, by the way…"


	13. Autumn: Dawn

**A ****BIG**** thanks to BoneDry for breaking the writer's block and to Linny for the inspiration for the last line.**

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

**Autumn:**

**Dawn:**

Dr. Temperance Brennan ducked her head as the crisp November air whipped around her. With a few quick steps she was safely inside the shelter of the Jeffersonian Institute. She nodded to the security guard as he waved her through. Clipping her security badge to the lapel of her coat, she made her way to her office. The halls were empty- as she had expected- and she made a mental list of the things that she wanted to accomplish for the day. She was looking forward to having the lab to herself, and anticipated accomplishing quite a bit before the day was through.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her cell phone, "Brennan."

"Hey, Sweetie," Angela's voice sounded cheery, "Watcha up to?"

"Presently?" she entered the Lab, "I'm preparing to catch up on some paperwork."

"No," Angela's voice turned from cheery to disapproving, "You are NOT at the lab today!"

"Of course I am," Brennan countered, "It is the perfect opportunity to work uninterrupted."

"That's because it's Thanksgiving, Bren," her friend chided, "You're supposed to take the day off. You need to come have dinner with Hodgins and I. Please?"

Brennan shook her head, entering her office and setting her things down on her desk, "I just wouldn't feel comfortable interposing myself into your celebration. I'll be fine, Ange, really. I do this every year."

"Just because you do it, doesn't make it right," Angela sighed, "I won't force you to come, but I do want you to promise me that you will eat turkey at some point today. And call someone- me, Booth- if you feel lonely. Nobody should feel lonely on Thanksgiving."

"I promise."

The exchanged good-byes and hung up. Brennan hung up her jacket and sat down at her desk to begin sifting through the paperwork that she had been putting off for the last week. Studying bones was much more enjoyable in her opinion. The week before Thanksgiving she always put her paperwork off and then came in to work on it over the long holiday weekend.

"What did you promise?" Booth's voice sounded from her couch.

She jumped in her seat, startled by a voice in what she thought was an empty room.

"Booth!"

"That's me," he grinned, "So what did you promise?"

"Booth," she repeated, calmer now, "What are you doing in my office, on my couch, on Thanksgiving?"

"Paperwork," he held up a manila folder, "Need your John Hancock on these puppies."

"I don't know what that means," she was still a bit flustered by his intrusion, "But surely that could have waited until after the holiday weekend."

"I knew you'd be here, Bones," he placed the folder in front of her and leaned in to meet her eye-to-eye, "You don't need to be alone this year for Thanksgiving."

She nodded, "Angela has already invited me to dine with her and Hodgins," she saw his face fall slightly, "And I will tell you what I told her: I enjoy working alone on Thanksgiving. I do it every year and I have not regretted it yet."

"So what did you promise her?" Booth persisted.

She rolled her eyes, "If you must know, I told her that I would consume some poultry today."

"And?" he could tell she was holding back on him.

"Nothing," she lied.

"Bones."

"What?"

"I know when you are lying to me, Bones."

"I promised that I would call her if I got lonely," she rushed to words, then muttered, "Or you."

Booth's eyebrows shot up, "Me, Bones? I'm touched."

"Or Angela," she said, diving back into her paperwork.

"Well, yeah, of course her," he smiled, and then headed back to the couch and sprawled out on it.

She looked up, "Booth, what are you doing?"

He waved a second manila folder, "I've got paperwork of my own, Bones. It doesn't do itself, you know."

"Don't you have a family celebration of your own to attend?"

He shook his head, "Nope. Rebecca's got Parker at her family's house until Saturday, and my parents decided to take a Caribbean cruise this year. I'm all yours, Bones."

She rolled her eyes again, and again focused back on her paperwork. She truly did need to use this time to catch up. If Booth wished to stay she would not stop him, however she would not entertain him either. She got to work.

Half-way through her stack, a sandwich materialized on her desk along with a bag of chip and a can of Diet Coke. She looked up at Booth, who was already back on the couch eating his own food, and allowed herself a small smile. She took five minutes to finish the sandwich, and then turned back to complete the rest of the stack.

It was night when she looked back up again. She could tell how the lighting in her office had shifted. She stood up, stretched, and looked over at Booth, still sprawled out on the couch. His folder has been set aside on the floor and he had fallen asleep, tiny snores emanating from his open mouth. She stood still for a moment, not wanting to wake him up. Then her stomach protested being neglected since lunch.

Booth groaned and sat up to find her looking at him.

He grinned a sleepy grin, "You finally done?"

"Yes. You know you could have left when you finished. I would not have been offended."

"I told you Bones," he stood and stretched with a yawn, "I'm not leaving you alone- not this Thanksgiving at least."

"Booth," she was growing tired of explaining herself, "I am alone every Thanksgiving."

"Yes, but this year you don't have a lot to be thankful for, so I want to be here for you."

She thought back on the year. Discovering that her mother's remains had been stored in Limbo for longer than she herself had been at the Jeffersonian. Being buried alive by a serial killer they had yet to track down. Reconnecting with Russ, only to have him run away with her father. Finding her father, only to have him kill another human being in order to protect her; and then leave before she could see him brought to justice. It had been a trying year. Christmas was around the corner, and she could feel the familiar tugs of depression and sadness closing in on her. She did not really want to face it alone again.

"Fine," she said, slipping onto the couch, "What is it that you would usually do right now?"

Surprised, but pleased that she wasn't fighting him for once, he sat down beside her.

"Well, Bones, I'd surround myself with friends and family," he held up a hand, "Remember, family comes in all different sizes. The last thing I would do is be alone."

"Booth, I have been 'alone' for a sizable number of years now. I prefer solitude to chaos."

"You asked," he reminded her.

"I apologize, Booth, continue."

"Well, that was pretty much it, Bones. I mean, being around other people and interacting with them forces me to not dwell as much on my own feelings, but to focus on the people around me."

"So I should accept Angela's invitation, then?"

"I would if I were you, Bones," Booth said softly, "She wants to be there for you too."

Brennan smiled at the thought, and then said, "But what about you, Booth? If I accept Angela's invitation, what will you do?"

"I'll be fine, Bones," he stood up again and waved a hand, "Sid always has a table open for me."

"No, Booth," she stood up as well and met his eyes, "You should come with me. Angela and Hodgins won't mind, and Zack might find it affirming if you would come and comment on his doctorate again. I am sure you won't be an imposition."

"I don't know, Bones," he pretended to think about it, "Thanksgiving with the Squint Squad doesn't sound like the best thing for my FBI image."

She punched him in the shoulder as she moved past him for her jacket and purse, "We will endeavor not to tarnish your 'image' too much."

"Well, if you insist…"

"I do."

"Thanks, Bones," he flashed her a genuine smile.

"You are welcome. And Booth?"

"Yes, Bones?"

"I do have one thing to be thankful for this year."

"What's that, Bones?"

"You, Booth. I am thankful that you are my partner," she smiled, "And my friend."


	14. Autumn: Sunrise

**Autumn:**

**Sunrise:**

It was Thanksgiving Day, and the Booth household was a cacophony of sights, sounds, and smells.

Upstairs, ten teenage girls laughed and talked, running back and forth from room to room getting their hair and nails just right. Between Emma and Haley, Russ' step-daughters, and the Booths' eight foster daughters, there was enough estrogen to frighten the bravest of men. Between them all, every topic known to adolescence was being covered; boys, fashions, movies, music trends, and when the next group shopping trip was being planned.

Downstairs, in the basement, testosterone was king, where guttural sounds emanated from the four men and two boys that had gathered around the television. The football game was in full swing and the men were in high spirits. Booth and Hodgins rooted for one team, while Max and Russ rooted for the other. Ten year-old Parker and five year-old Jack Hodgins Jr., were running around chasing each other and throwing Parker's new toy football around, pausing every once in a while to take in the game.

In the kitchen and dining room, Angela, Amy, Rebecca, and Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth were busy putting the final touches on the Thanksgiving feast they had been preparing all morning. Amy and Rebecca focused on getting the place settings- which spanned three tables in both the dining room and living room- in order. Meanwhile, the good doctor and a very pregnant Angela were in the process of putting everything into serving dishes that would be placed strategically throughout the tables. Angela had laughed when her friend had showed her the diagrams of where and how the meal would be served, but it seemed to be well-thought out, and- so far- was turning out just as expected.

Two year-old Kayli Hodgins was running back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, trying to help where the adults would let her. Little Jeremy Brennan, also two- and looking more like his father, Russ, every day- followed Kayli around like a little lost puppy dog. After about fifteen minutes, however, the toddlers tired of 'helping' and decided that the toys their mothers had set up in a corner of the living room for them looked much more inviting.

"Well," Angela and Temperance set the last of the food on the tables, "I think that's it."

"Yes," her long-time friend nodded, satisfied.

"We're ready on our end too," Rebecca announced.

"I'm going to clean Jeremy up quickly," Amy said, "Then I'll go get the girls."

"So who gets the boys?" Angela grinned.

"I will," Temperance volunteered.

"Brave woman," Rebecca remarked.

"Very brave," Angela agreed, sitting down heavily in her seat, "Though I think sitting really _is_ the best place for me at this point."

Temperance smiled at her friend and shook her head, not understanding why they thought the task would be so difficult. As she reached the top of the stairs that led into her husband's 'Man Room', a roar erupted from Booth and Hodgins; groans from Max and Russ.

"Dinner is ready," she announced.

The men continued to stare, fixated on the game, while Parker and Jack Jr. wrestled around on the floor for control of the football.

"Excuse me," she tried again, still to no avail.

She stood, arms crossed over her chest, evaluating the situation and trying to formulate the best strategy for getting their attention. She decided that subtlety would be lost on this group, and decided on the direct approach. Alighting the steps, she descended them swiftly and silently, snatching up the remote, and turning off the television before anyone had registered her presence. A chorus of complaints went up and six heads turned and noticed her for the first time.

"As I was saying," she set the remote down on the end table and looked each of the older men in the eye, "Dinner is on the table. It is cooling as we speak. I, for one, do not like cold food," she turned to the younger pair, "Boys, please go wash your hands and go to the table."

"Do we have to, Tempe?" Russ teased her.

"It would be advisable, yes," she replied, "I'm sure Hodgins can tell you how many hazardous particulates are most likely on your hands right now."

Hodgins opened his mouth to do just that when Booth clapped him on the shoulder and interrupted, "Hey, let's go wash up and eat, why don't we?"

"Solid idea, Booth," Max said to his son-in-law, "Let's go, Son," he steered Russ in the direction of the stairs, while Booth did the same with Hodgins.

The two boys raced up the stairs, with Max, Russ, and Hodgins right behind them. Booth lingered a minute, stealing a kiss from his wife.

"That was a pretty smart strategy, Bones- going for the remote."

She nodded, "I ascertained that it was the best way to get your attention," she traced her fingers down the front of his shirt, "I had already called you twice."

"Didn't hear you," he murmured, leaning in for a deeper kiss.

"I noticed," she murmured back.

"I'm listening now, Bones," he whispered in her ear, heightening her senses.

"Good," she breathed, pulling him to her and assaulting his lips with her own.

"We should probably go up," he said when they came up for air.

"It is our house," she agreed reluctantly, "So we do have obligations to our guests."

"Yes," he captured her lips in his once more.

She deepened it. Unconsciously, they moved as one to the couch, settling down together, hands roving. The rest of the world melted away as the couple melted into one another. He marveled at the smoothness of her skin; she at the firmness of his chest muscles.

"We're going to get caught if we don't stop now," he warned, breathless.

"Angela will take one look at us and know anyway," she pointed out.

"Yes," he nodded, "She will. Rebecca will too."

She pulled back, "Do you think so?"

"Oh I know so, Bones," he grinned, "Rebecca knows my tells as well as Angela knows yours."

"I suppose so," she turned herself around, so that her back was against his chest.

His arms moved around her and she leaned back further. His heart rate was extremely high and she smiled slightly at the thought.

"I love your smile, Bones," Booth commented.

"Truly?"

"Yes," he nodded, "It used to bother me that you never smiled when we first met. Then once I saw you smile for the first time I made it my personal goal to help you find that smile as often as possible."

"I would say you have been successful," she grinned up at him.

"Yeah," he smiled down at her, "I think I have too. You smile a lot more now than you ever did. You seem a lot happier now."

"I am happy, Booth. And I am content as well. We've built a good life together."

"A great life, Bones," he agreed.

"Hey," a voice called from the steps, "Are you guys coming?"

"Yes," they chorused.

"Good," Russ materialized at the top of the stairs as they stood to go up, "You know, it seems like I end up doing this every year. They've got a pool going on upstairs as to how deeply you two were, um, involved."

"Just talking," Booth said nonchalantly, "That's all."

"Liar," Russ grinned, "But you don't look flushed to me so we'll go with that."

"Food is getting cold," Temperance pointed out.

Booth put his hand on her lower back and escorted her back up the stairs to their waiting company. The love of his life was happy and content to be in love with him. Considering where they had started all those years ago, it was something to truly be thankful for.


	15. Autumn: Noon

**Autumn:**

**Noon:**

Chairs scraped against the hardwood floor as the guests leaned back after a hearty meal. Their stomachs were sated; the tryptophan metabolizing, making the fullest of them start to feel a bit drowsy. The younger children had long since left, and the sounds of their touch-football game could be heard coming from the backyard. Parker remained with the adults, stating he was getting too old for football at age twenty-one.

Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth served coffee, and asked if anyone was ready for dessert yet. A chorus of groans sounded from the men, and she told them it could wait.

"While we are waiting for our food to settle," Booth put his arm around his wife as she sat back down next to him, "It's time for the Booth family Thanksgiving tradition."

"Aw, com'on, Dad," Parker pretended to complain, "Do we _have_ to?"

"Son, this is Thanksgiving," Booth leveled a finger at his son, "So it is only appropriate that we-"

"Give thanks," Parker finished for him, "Yeah, I know Dad. I've been to enough of these things."

"Good," Booth nodded, "Than you may go first."

Parker rolled his eyes in mock protest, then proceeded, "Hi, my name is Parker Booth, and I am thankful for my family."

"Thanks, Parker," Booth's voice was laden with sarcasm, "Felt like a real AA meeting moment there."

"Well I am," he grinned, "I've got you, Mom, Jake, the girls, and the best wicked step-mother in the world," he smiled at the object of his teasing, "That'd be you, Dr. Bones. You mean more to my dad than anything in the world."

"Thank you, Parker," his 'Dr. Bones' smiled at him, shaking her head at how alike father and son became with each passing year.

"I'll go next," Max Kennan spoke up from his daughter's right side, "I am thankful, like young Mr. Booth here, for my family as well. Especially for this new little addition," he reached over and kissed baby Hope's head, "May she continue to look more like her mother as she grows," he smiled at his daughter, "I am also thankful for my son-in-law. Booth," he fixed the other man with a look of genuine gratitude, "You have taken better care of my girl than I ever could have. Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir," Booth nodded.

"Well, with all this talk of kids and babies," Angela chimed in from the end of the table, "I for one am thankful _not_ to be pregnant this year!"

"Here, here!" Jack Hodgins agreed heartily, "Sorry, Babe, but I think if we have any more than the ten we've already got, I'll need a straightjacket. And we would most definitely need a bigger mansion."

Laughter echoed around the table.

"I'm thankful that I have no children," Cam grinned at Angela, "I still just cannot see how you two do it. I love borrowing your kids, well, a few at a time at least; but I am happier by far when I can send them home at the end of the day," she gave a mock shiver, "Give me a lab full of green grad students any day to a houseful of kids."

"I am thankful to simply be enjoying all of your company once again," the rich timbre of Dr. Daniel Goodman filled the air, "This is my first holiday without my dear wife and reconnecting with you all has helped to ease that loss tremendously."

"To Dr. Goodman," Jack raised his coffee mug, "Forever the leader of the pack."

Glasses raised and clinked.

A nasal voice broke the companionable silence, "Well guys," Dr. Lance Sweets began, "While I totally knew that you two had a deep emotional attachment-despite the fact that you denied it more times than I care to count- it pleases me to see you happy and content as a married couple. And to that end, I am thankful that my new book, The Proof in the Pudding has now hit number one on the bestseller's list. I owe the success of it to the two of you."

"Wow, Sweets," Booth's eyes were twinkling, "You find time to write that while you were graduating from High School this year? I'm proud of you."

Another ripple of laughter as Sweets' face turned a pale shade of pink. Booth could still get under his skin after all these years without batting an eye.

As Temperance looked around the table, she noticed that one person was holding back; she nodded, urging him to speak.

He cleared his voice and started softly, "I am thankful for each one of you here," Doctor Zack Addy started, turning to each of them as he named them, "Dr. Brennan, you believed in me from the very beginning, and you never gave up on me when you truly should have. Agent Booth, you have taught me more about manhood than I ever thought I needed to know; I am thankful for you as well. I am also thankful for Hodgins and Angela allowing me to move back in above their garage. I feel as if I have truly come home. As for doctors Goodman, Saroryan and Sweets, each one of you has played a large role in my recovery and rehabilitation and I could not be blessed with more caring people."

"To family," Booth raised his glass, "Natural and chosen."

"To family," the group chorused.

"So what are you thankful for, Dr. Bones?" Parker asked.

She smiled, "I believe this year I am thankful for hope."

"Copycat," Max said.

She shook her head, "No, not our daughter- though I am thankful for her as well. I mean the concept of hope. Each one of us here is a personification of that virtue. We, all of us, had dreams and aspirations- hope, in the vernacular- and while none of us perhaps travelled the paths we had once aspired to, we have all had success. If at any point we had lost hope, perhaps things would not have resulted in the manner that they have. And so, I am thankful for hope."

Seeley Booth grinned at his wife, "Well I am thankful for all of the yummy desserts that you gals have cooked up for us!" he eyed the array of pies that Angela had been quietly bringing out from the kitchen and laying on the table, "Slice of pie for you, Bones?"

She set her coffee down and slapped him on the shoulder, "No, Booth, but you knew that."

"Actually, Sweetie," Angela said walking into the kitchen again and emerging with one last pie, "I made a special one for you this year."

With dramatic flourish she produced a chocolate pudding pie on a graham cracker crust and topped with a thick layer of whipped cream and chocolate shavings.

"We took a vote after last year," Angela smiled, "And we decided that you needed a pie with no baked fruit. You do like chocolate still, don't you?"

"Yes, Ange," she assured her friend, "I like chocolate very much."

"I get to serve it to her!" Booth snatched the pie from Angela's hands, "What?" he said to the curious onlookers, "I have been trying to get this woman to eat pie with me for decades! I've earned the right to serve Bones her first piece of pie."

He set the pie on the table in front of them and began cutting it. He did fine until he went to scoop it onto her pie plate. It ended up looking more like a heap of pudding and whipped cream than a slice of pie, but he still served it to her with a triumphant smirk.

"Now, would you like a piece of pie, Bones?"

"Why yes," his wife said with a grin, "I think I will."


	16. Autumn: Sunset Part 1

**Autumn:**

**Sunset A:**

"This," Hope Joy Booth sighed, slouching her sixteen year-old frame further down in the plastic terminal chair, "Has _got_ to be the worst Thanksgiving ever."

Her mother, Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth, nodded- though she was so involved in her forensic anthropology journal Hope doubted her mother truly heard her. Her parents both had work they had to complete before they could leave for the weekend, so they had taken the chance and waited until Thanksgiving morning to leave. This morning the two of them, along with Hope's father, Seeley Booth, had boarded their flight at Reagan International Airport en route to California for Thanksgiving with her brother Parker and his family. They had taken off without a hitch. Then somewhere over Michigan a blizzard had sprung up, and they were forced to make an emergency landing. They had been stuck at the airport terminal for six hours now. From the large terminal windows she could see the snow still swirling down at a fast rate. Now, her dad was chasing down airport officials, trying to get a status on their flight, and find a place for them to stay overnight.

"I'm going for a walk," she told her mother, who again nodded an acknowledgement.

It was a fairly good-sized terminal, so she took careful note of which section her mother was sitting in and took off. Meandering aimlessly, she began to take note of the people around her, who were obviously in the same boat as she was. Some were coping well; others not so much so. Pausing at the railing on the top floor of the concourse, she looked down.

Directly below her, she could see a family sitting calmly, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on around them. The mother had a set of knitting needles out and Hope thought she could make out the beginnings of a sweater. The father was engaged in a magazine, while the young teenager scribbled down lines in a notebook.

"Hey, Mum," the accent was distinctly British, "What do you think of this?" she held out the notebook.

The mother set the needlework on her lap and looked at the girl's offering, "It looks very fine, my dear," she replied, "But perhaps the wording could go this way-"

She proceeded to instruct her daughter on the finer points of writing. The girl nodded where she saw she needed improvement, and shook her head where she felt she had down what she wanted. It was a moving scene, and Hope had to pull herself away before she became completely enthralled.

Going back down to the lower concourse, Hope discovered that she was thirsty. She had just enough change in her pocket to get a soda, and she decided to go in search of a vending machine. It didn't take long to find one, and she stood in line patiently- apparently she was not the only thirsty one.

"Never thought I'd be here for Thanksgiving; how about you?" the girl in front of her turned her head back to face her, smiling. They were about the same age.

Hope shook her head, "Nope."

"I'm just hoping the storm clears out before these two decide to make their entrance," the girl swung around, revealing her _very_ pregnant stomach, "I swear this was the worst timing ever."

Hope nodded, not quite sure what to say.

"Name's Linny, by the way," she held out her hand and Hope shook it, giving her own name- Linny continued, "I'm waiting for their dad- my husband- by the way," the pride and love she had for him evidenced in her voice, "He was supposed to be coming in tonight, but I guess not now. And of course I'm stuck here waiting until tomorrow. I'll have you know," she grinned, "Those plastic chairs were _not_ designed with pregnant, hormonal teenagers in mind."

The girls shared a laugh.

Sensing Hope's slight discomfort, the other girl rattled on, "Of course I suppose that's my fault more than theirs. I can't believe I'm going to be graduating high school married and with six-month old twins to boot. Guess life never turns out like you expect it, huh?"

Again, Hope nodded, as Linny stepped up to the machine and deposited her money, then waved as she returned to her seat. Hope retrieved her loose change and selected a bottle of water, grateful that there were still some left in the machine. She decided to head back and see if she could pull her mom out of her magazine and maybe get a card game or something started.

When she returned to their section, however, she found that the seat beside her mom had become occupied in the time that she had been gone. A teenager sat engaged in an animated conversation with Hope's mother. As she took a seat not far away she discovered that the two were discussing bones- forensic anthropology, to be exact. Apparently the girl had recognized Dr. Brennan-Booth from one of her many books on the topic, and had come to ask her some questions about the field of forensic anthropology. The doctor was suggesting courses that the girl could take in high school and college to prepare for a career in that field, and was sharing some of her schooling experiences as well. Hope smiled, her mom was forever giving her advice on college and career choices. She didn't even seem to mind that Hope did not wish to become a forensic anthropologist, she just wanted to give her some direction.

"Hey, Stranger," her dad plopped down in the empty seat beside her.

"Hey, Dad," she acknowledged him, "So what's the prognosis?"

"Well, Bones Jr," she glared at him and her grinned at her, "It appears that despite all of the marvelous improvements in the flight industry these days, no one has figured out a way to safely fly through a blizzard, so we are stuck."

"Figured that," she shrugged, "Do we have a place to sleep tonight, or are we bunking here?"

"Well," he stretched his arms, "It took a bit of badge-waving, but I was able to get us a room in the airport hotel."

"Rank hath its privileges," Hope smiled.

"Yep."

"So what were you able to determine, Booth?" her mother came over and joined them.

"Well, Bones," he greeted her with a peck on the cheek, Hope grimaced; the adults ignored her, "I was just telling Hope here that we're not going anywhere tonight, though I was able to get us one room in the airport hotel," he pointed to the seat she had just vacated, and the young girl still sitting there, now engrossed in the journal that her mother had been reading not long ago, "Who's your new friend, Bones?"

"Her name is Kay," her mother informed them, "She's travelling alone back home to California and has a very deep interest in forensic anthropology."

"How in the world did she ever pick that for a hobby?" Booth teased.

"Apparently," his wife smiled haughtily, "She is a fan of the television show I am helping to produce."

"The one based on Kathy and Andy?" Hope asked, most of her friends were into the show; though more for the potential romance than the science.

"The same," her mother confirmed, "Though to be honest it's based more on my life than on the character of Kathy in the book."

"Andy's still her partner, though," Booth waggled his eyebrows, "And Kathy Reichs always gets her man."

Brown and grey eyes connected, deep feelings flowing between them.

"Look, guys," Hope waved her hands to get their attention, "This is going to be a long wait and we only have one hotel room to share, which means you two have to behave," Hope wagged a finger at her parents, who grinned, "I'm serious, you guys, no funny business while I'm in the same room. I'm not beneath finding a bucket of water and using it on you."

The couple laughed, and kissed again just to get a rise. It worked.

"You two seriously need help," she rolled her eyes.

"Hey," her dad grinned, "At least you've never had to wonder if your parents love each other!"

"Yeah," she grinned back, "I just have to watch not to enter a room you guys are in if it's too quiet."

"Smart kid," Booth remarked to his wife.

"Well she does share half of my DNA," came the response.

"Can we find that room now?" Hope rolled her eyes, "I think I'm going to scream if I have to sit for one more minute in these chairs."

Booth nodded and they gathered up their carry-on luggage and headed to the room. It was small, but the teenager was relieved to see that there were two beds at least. She flopped down on one of them, happy to not be sitting or standing. She was asleep within minutes.

She awoke sometime later to the sounds of muffled laughter. She cautiously opened one eye, then the other. Her parents were sitting at the head of their bed, laughing over an old, worn photo album.

"What'cha up to?" she swung her legs off of her own bed and went to join them.

Booth scooted over in the bed to make room for her, "We were just looking through this album your mom brought along."

"Why'd you bring it?" she asked.

Her mom shrugged, "Parker asked me to bring some old pictures to show the kids. They were too valuable to check with our baggage, so I put them in with my carry on."

Hope nodded and looked at the pictures. She surmised quickly that they were taken years before her birth. Her parents look _so_ young in all of them.

"What is the story behind _that_?" She pointed to a picture of a very disheveled Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan dressed- well her mom was Wonder Woman, but she couldn't tell who her dad was supposed to be.

"Wonder Woman," her mother started.

"And Clark Kent," her father finished.

"After a _really_ bad date," they chorused together, as if they had spoken the words together many times before.

"Actually, it wasn't a date at all," her mother said.

"Hey," Booth grinned, "You were the one who called it a date."

"Agreed," she nodded, "Though catching a kidnapper and getting shot hardly constitutes a date."

"Wouldn't have gotten shot, if _you_ hadn't shot me," he leveled a finger at her.

"I have told you many times that it was an _accident_, Booth," she protested, "It's not as if I pulled out the gun and aimed it at you."

"Still want to know where you stored that thing," he muttered.

"Hello! Third person in the room," Hope chimed in, "I swear I need a secret decoder ring to understand you guys sometimes."

The Booths laughed and then explained the story behind the picture. Hope shook her head, knowing that only her parents could get into such a mess.

"So you really weren't on a date after all?" she asked when they were through.

"Nope," Booth shook his head, "That came later."

"Years later," Dr. Brennan-Booth added.

"Well," Booth said, stretching and moving to the end of the bed, "Now that we're all awake, who's up for scrounging up a Thanksgiving feast?"

The two Booth women hopped off of their sides of the bed and hunted around for their shoes. Each of them took a quick turn in the room's small bathroom as well. Feet shod and hair fixed, they announced that they were ready to go. Booth made a smart comment about women and vanity and got punched twice for his trouble.

As they sat munching turkey sandwiches, Hope contemplated her initial assessment of the situation. This certainly was not turning out to be the huge family Thanksgiving that they had always shared in the past. She missed her brothers and sisters, and the chaos that filled the house when all of their kids were in tow. Being the youngest with such a large age gap separating her and her siblings she often felt like an only child. Thanksgiving and Christmas were days that she looked forward to all year, because they meant she would not be alone in the house with her parents. She loved her mom and dad, but she missed the company of her siblings.

She thought about the people she had observed at the airport. The British couple and their daughter- who seemed not a bit flustered by the situation they found themselves in- stuck out to her the most. Of course, they were British and not missing a major holiday celebration, but they still seemed calm and composed in the middle of a tumultuous crowd. They seemed to realize, too the value of family. Then her mind turned to Linny and Kay, two girls around her age who were alone here; completely bereft of their families for the holiday. She really did have it good, she supposed, glancing up at her parents, who were, again, lost in each other's eyes.

"Hey, Dad," she queried, breaking their trance, "Would you mind if I invited a couple of other people to stay in the room too?"

"Well the room is only so big," he said.

"That's ok; I'll sleep on the floor," she assured him, "It is Thanksgiving, after all. And Linny especially needs the bed more than I do."

"Now _I'm_ the one who needs a decoder ring," her mother smiled.

Hope smiled back and hurried off to find Linny and Kay and extend her invitation. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad Thanksgiving after all.


	17. Autumn: Sunset Part 2

**Autumn:**

**Sunset B:**

Seeley Booth leaned back into the familiar contours of his Lazy Boy recliner, heard the heater kick on beside him, and sighed. He was home for Thanksgiving. Well, really he was visiting the home that he had shared with Bones for so many decades. Their son Jacob, and his wife Mary, had purchased the old Booth house when Booth had decided to move in with their daughter Hope, and her family. He was glad they had moved his chair up to the living room rather than make him go downstairs. It felt good to be home.

He shivered despite the warmth. For two hours today he had kept his promise to Bones- had visited her final resting place and talked. He talked about the family, about life, and about the things that truly mattered. He wondered if he would ever feel warm again. He doubted it. For just over fifty years they had shared life together. The vacuum her death had left threatened daily to tear him apart.

He could hear the boisterous voices around him, laughing in the afterglow of the evening meal. He heard the roar of the men watching the Thanksgiving game downstairs- recalling how Bones used to have to turn off the TV for her men to come up for the meal. A baby cried somewhere and he could see her face, flushed from labor, grinning because of their daughter Hope's birth- they had made love, she said.

From the kitchen, scents of apple and pumpkin pie wafted through his nostrils- the air heavy with spices. She hated her fruit cooked- always had, always would. Sweets had been right about him wooing her with pie, and it had been a family joke ever since. He heard Hope's laugh from the kitchen as well. She sounded so much like her mother he felt physical pain. It was her smile that he missed most often- the kind that lit up her face, dispelling the sadness that had permeated so much of her early life. It had been so long since he'd seen it that he feared he would soon forget what it looked like.

He stared at the floor, trying _not_ to think about her. He failed. The wooden boards formed long lines that ran the length and breadth of the room. He knew about lines. He had drawn one once, and then he had crossed it- to love her, to live without fear, to not live alone. And yet here he sat, loving her, fearing he would never feel whole again, and alone. Had it truly been worth it? Of course; but it didn't make the hurt any less.

He gazed at the walls of the living room that they had spent so much time in over the years. The ones not covered in bookshelves were covered in framed photographs. Some of their children, some of their foster daughters, others of their grandchildren, still more of their great-grandchildren. Angela's portrait of their family was at the center of all of them. He was glad Jake hadn't removed the pictures. On the far wall, a high-definition digital frame that one of the children had bought for them a few years back scrolled through more candid photos. Small snapshots from a full life. He wondered how many memories were captured there- how many more moments lay captured only in his mind.

He knew he was being left alone with his thoughts. He could feel the wide berth he was being given by those around him- could hear the concern in their whispered tones. His body may have aged, but his mind was a sharp as it had been in his thirties. Back when she had told Cam that he could read people like she could read bones. Yes, he could read the concern in the people around him, but he could not comfort their fears. He was no longer the "Paladin", just a mortal man who loved his wife and ached for her touch, her scent, her voice.

"Come home, Booth," he could swear he heard her voice whisper in his ear, "It's time."

His thoughts turned to his daughter. How would Hope take it if he were to leave her as well?

"The family will take care of her," the Bones-voice seemed to say.

What about him? Was he ready to be done?

An ethereal laugh echoed in his ears, "What? A century of living isn't enough?"

He grinned wryly, supposing she was right.

"It's time," the voice repeated gently, "Come home, Seeley Booth. Your journey is at an end."

He took one last look at the snapshots on the wall, smiled, thanked God for the rich life that he had been given… and left. It was time to go home.


	18. Epilogue

**Well, that's the end of this series. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did. Thanks so much for the reviews. My next series is already underway and is called "Purposes Under Heaven". ****Another listfic like Vows. These oneshots will be derived from the Bible, Ecclesiastes, chapter 3, verses 2-8. The title is derived from Ecc. 3:1- "To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under Heaven."(NKJV). There are 14 refrains and I'll post one per day just like Snapshots. Thank you again for joining me! If you liked the series, or notice any inconsistencies, let me know by clicking that little button that says 'Review'.**

**Plz;Thnx;GUM**


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